


Blood and Bowstring

by Secretlysheikah



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Legend of Zelda - Freeform, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Wild (Linked Universe) Angst, Wild (Linked Universe)-centric, minor mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlysheikah/pseuds/Secretlysheikah
Summary: A casual question has an unexpected affect, and the newly dubbed Wild hopes that no one noticed.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 212





	Blood and Bowstring

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot that lived in my head rent free for a while. I thought I'd write it out and share as a celebration of sorts for reaching 200 followers on my tumblr! I hope you like it.  
> my Tumblr is Secretlysheikah if you wanna join the party.

Wild as he was now called was still wary of the eight other heroes, but that was to be expected considering his past. Wild had spent his adventure alone, and even now, after his adventure was done he often found himself wandering Hyrule alone. It felt freeing, not having to answer to anyone but himself. But now, being around this large and rowdy group, he realized just how lonely he had been. He still wanted to have privacy, felt the urge to wander, but as a whole he didn’t mind the others. The various Links hadn’t been together for long but Wild could feel the tenuous bonds of friendship beginning to grow between them. 

It had been about three weeks since Wild had been... Recruited? Asked to join? Added to the group, and there had been a bit of a learning curve. He had to learn how to fight in a group, which was a pain and he couldn’t just wander off anymore without being rounded up (by a wolf of all things) and then getting a lecture for his trouble. The chain, as the youngest of the group had dubbed them, had a mission, a dangerous one and it wouldn’t be good if he got lost or hurt when he wandered. Thinking of their mysterious mission Wild honestly didn’t really know what that they were supposed to be doing. Besides traveling between the different eras of Hyrule and fighting powerful monsters there didn’t seem to be much direction as of yet. Wild was pulled from his thoughts when a voice piped up from across the camp.

“Who do you think is the best archer?” Wind asked from his place next to the fire. They had just finished dinner and everyone was chatting amicably as they relaxed. This question had the group pause in their collective conversations as they pondered the question. 

“Well I don’t want to brag, but I have shot keese from a far distance before.” The one called Warriors said proudly adjusting his blue scarf before he mimicked shooting an arrow.

“A keese? Are you kidding me pretty boy, how about something actually impressive,” Legend scoffed and was playfully jabbed in the side by the brown haired boy. Wild tried to recall the name of the other boy but found he was drawing a blank. 

Wild had struggled with the names of his fellow heroes for a while now, there were some names he was able to remember easily. Like Legend, the distinctive pink in his hair made it easy for Wild to remember his name. Well that, and the fact that Legend often came off as a standoffish prick with the ability to cut your pride in half with a sentence also helped. Wild struggled to recall the name of the brown haired boy for a moment longer until it popped into his head. The boy’s name was Hyrule, soft spoken and kind, Wild liked him. Hyrule was a wanderer like himself and with the few interactions they had Wild knew he found someone to take with him if he ever had the urge to explore the new terrain. 

The conversation quickly escalated from there with everyone trying to one up each other with more outlandish stories from their adventures. It was terribly amusing and Wild had an urge to join them but he decided to sit this one out and just observe. While he was getting used to the others, he still found that he didn’t want to offer too much information about himself just yet. It would be better to have an element of surprise just in case things turned sour. 

Warriors as it turned out was quite the story teller, he boasted about feats that had no chance of actually being true. Though Wind did come up with some whoppers of his own. The conversation continued on, and Wild found that the most impressive story was told by Twilight. He claimed that with a special mask and some enchanted arrows he was able to take out a whole camp of bulblins (whatever those were) from over a large field length away. Not to be outdone Wind was quick to jump in and Wild had to hide an amused laugh when he claimed that he had to shoot a sea monster in the eye while trying to sail through a storm and a whirlpool all at the same time. 

“It was nuts! I could barely see through the rain and the flashes of lightning!” Wind said, jumping to his feet and dramatically acted out the scene. Out of the corner of his eye Wild noticed how Legend winced slightly whenever Wind described the lighting. Curiosity burned inside him and he wanted to ask about it but one look from the red clad hero stopped that line of thinking before it even got started. Wild looked away quickly when he realized with dawning horror that he had been staring but it was too late, he had been caught.

“What about you Wild? Have anything to contribute?” Legend sneered and Wild felt his heart freeze. All eyes turned to him and he shrunk down under the weight of the stares. He hated having so much attention on him, it made him uncomfortable. Wild tugged at his hood. He thought about pulling it on hoping it would release him from the crushing weight of their stares, but he found he couldn’t get it to lift up. He could feel heat rising to his face, his scars began to burn and he rubbed at them in a vain attempt to quell the ache. Wild could feel his breaths growing quick and he longed for escape and fresh air. Luckily a voice sliced through his panic and he felt the eyes of the others shift away from him. 

“Hey, It’s okay if you don’t want to share, we have plenty to go off of already,” the smallest hero, Four said, drawing the attention of the others off of Wild. He gave the other hero a short nod in thanks and after a moment of awkward tugging managed to pull the hood up and over his head. The weight of it calmed him slightly and he took special care to ensure that his face was hidden in shadows. 

“Have anything specific in mind, Four?” The soft spoken hero, Sky asked with a sleepy yawn and a stretch. Wild felt himself slouch and he pulled his knees up towards his chest so he could rest his arms on top of them. He was curious despite himself, and he wanted to know what the others considered impressive. 

“Well there was the lizalfos that he shot through the eye. That was pretty impressive given the fact that, from where he shot, there was barely enough clearance to see, let alone fire,” Four said matter-of-factly. The others nodded in agreement and Wild felt his eyebrow quirk up. He remembered that, it wasn’t a hard shot in his opinion, anyone could do that. He kept quiet though when Wind began to speak. 

“OH! And remember the moblin he took down? He shot three arrows at once!” Wind added excitedly and the others murmured excitedly. Wild hardly considered that impressive, though he supposed he hadn’t seen the others do something like that before. As they continued to chat Wild still felt the tight coil of anxiety twisting around his gut. His heart thudded hard against his ribcage and he worked on calming it while he continued to listen to the others rattle off more examples of his archery prowess. 

Even with all the eyes off him he still couldn’t stop himself from wanting to shrink down into a ball. He chided himself for being so weak, they were just talking about his archery skills. Though he could hear a distant bell of familiarity ringing in his mind. This whole situation felt very familiar in the worst kind of way and for some reason it made him very anxious, like he was being judged. In a way he was being judged, but it was all in good fun, he knew that. So why did he feel like he was about to get punished?

“Did you have any training?” Someone asked and Wild could only manage the barest of nods. The ringing in his head became deafening and he felt his muscles beginning to lock up. He could tell the others were still talking to him but they might as well have been miles away. His gaze became fixed on a point somewhere in the distance as everything began to fade into the background noise. He knew what this was now but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The memory was already pulling him away from the world and everyone in it. He took a deep breath and let himself fall into it. 

************ 

Link felt the painful vibration from the bow string as the arrow was loosed. It landed with a solid thunk into the target making a tight grouping at its center. His fingers ached, his back muscles pulled and cramped painfully and his arms were little better than chu jelly. At the shout from his commander Link stood at attention ignoring the pull and burn in his back as he did so. Back perfectly straight and rigid and eyes staring straight ahead he schooled his face into a flat emotionless mask and waited. His commander walked up to the target followed by one of his subordinates and together they studied his handy work. Link could tell by their posture that they weren’t satisfied with his shooting. His fingers gave a painful throb and he felt something warm pool at the tip of his middle finger. 

“Sloppy work,” the commander scoffed as he ripped one of the arrows free and eyed the hole left behind in the target. Link felt his mouth press into a firm line but he said nothing. 

“I agree, this is worse than last time,” the subordinate commented blandly as he too pulled another arrow out from the target and examined the fletching. Link felt his heart begin to sink, he knew what this meant. They had already been shooting for over three hours now and his fingers were little better than raw and bleeding skin. 

When they had begun with his archery training Link had been excited. He always had an interest in archery after watching the older soldiers practicing in the courtyard some years ago. But after a few rounds of shooting, his fingers became stiff and sore. His arm that held the bow had already begun to bruise and his shoulders had burned. 

There had also been little in the way of actual instruction, instead they had just handed him the bow and a quiver of arrows and showed him how to stand. Other than that he had to figure it out on his own and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t find it difficult. Though taking into account his lack of instruction he thought he was doing fairly well. His superiors on the other hand had made it clear they weren’t happy with his progress. By the time they were finished shooting for that day Link couldn’t curl his index and middle fingers and his arm had such deep bruising that just the fabric of his shirt rubbing against his forearm caused pain. 

It wasn’t until later that night around the dining table with the other soldiers that he learned that archers were meant to get braces to protect their arms and a special tab to help protect their fingers against the bow string. He found himself without words when he learned this new information. So he kept his head down and pushed his food around his plate, his apatite forgotten in the swirl of his own thoughts. At his next practice he asked his commander why he wasn’t given a guard and a tab and was met with a hard glare and a sneer. He was told in no uncertain terms that he must learn to feel the string of the bow before he would be allowed the luxury of a guard and tab. That day he was forced to practice archery until the sun went down, and it was the first time his fingers bled. 

From that point on Link had made it a point to learn as quickly as possible so he could earn his gear. But after months of practice that left him with bleeding fingers and bruises he found he always fell short of his commander’s impossible standards of perfection. Every missed shot led to fits of rage and even when he honed his skills to the point of out shooting his fellow knights, it never was good enough. A scoff from the commander’s laky brought his attention back on the task at hand. 

“Blood on the fletching, how disgusting,” the subordinate sneered as he handed the offending arrow to the commander. With a disgusted look of his own the commander ordered his subordinate to gather the rest of the arrows as he made his way back over to Link. He steeled himself for the tirade and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pants and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to get the blood out of the fabric later. 

“sloppy work Link, you can do better than this,” the commander said as he brandished the arrow in front of his face for him to examine. There was only a small smear of red on the white and blue feathers, but it was enough to be noticeable. 

“Look at this mess you left on this arrow, disgusting,” he said as he leaned forward and got into Link’s face. His breath smelled rancid and Link had to force himself to keep his face neutral in the face of his commander’s anger. 

“Not to mention you can’t even manage to hit the target’s center! You’re at fifty paces, a toddler can do better than that!” He bellowed and Link felt spittle land on his cheek. Link could feel a tight ball of rage coil like a snake in his gut and it was a challenge to keep his silent mask firmly in place. 

“And you call yourself the hero. Pathetic. How can we trust the fate of Hyrule to a hero that can’t even hit his target?” He asked and Link was sorely tempted to snap back. Instead he only blinked slowly, and let his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. The commander straightened and looked down his nose at him. His subordinate trotted up next to him and handed the arrows back over to Link. He took them mutely and placed them back in his quiver and waited for the next round of shooting to start. The subordinate looked at his hand and made a face at the small smear of blood that Link had accidently left behind. 

“Honestly can’t you keep your failure to yourself?” He drawled as he leaned forward and wiped the offending blood on Link’s shirt. Link felt the something snap in his chest and without thinking words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“Maybe if I had something protecting my fingers I wouldn’t leave my ‘failure’ on you,” Link hissed and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had made a terrible mistake. In one swift movement his commander shoved the subordinate aside and whipped the arrow across Link’s face. Pain bloomed across his face as the fletching on the arrow made a fine slice across his cheek. He felt a welt beginning to rise and before he could straighten the arrow was brought across his face once again and this time he felt the arrow snap from the force. He could feel a new welt rising along his jawline and tears welled up in his eyes from the stinging pain.

“How dare you speak out of turn! You are meant to be seen not heard!” The commander roared, tossing the arrow aside and fisting Link’s shirt in his hands. Link forced himself to make eye contact, staring down his commander’s rage with all the spite he could muster. Link watched as the commander’s eyes flared with renewed rage and he was flung off his feet. He hit the ground hard and before he could recover he found the tip of a blade at his throat. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in shock, this was a new level of rage and a small part of him wondered how far his commander was going to take his threat. The look of malicious glee that spread across his commander’s face sent a chill through him. 

“Not so uppity now are you. On your feet,” He commanded and Link slowly began to get to his feet, his eyes trained on his commander’s face. His breathing was heavy and Link watched for any change in body language that might indicate an attack. The tip of the sword followed him as he moved and when he was finally upright the tip of the sword traced the welt on his cheek that was left behind by the arrow. 

“I should have you whipped soundly for this insubordination,” The commander said softly as the tip of his sword once again found the soft skin underneath his chin. Link had to force himself to regain his neutral mask and he raised his eyes to meet his commander’s cold gray eyes. Link could handle a lashing, it wouldn’t be the first time and with his track record he fully expected to receive more. But the look in his commander’s eyes made him think a lashing would be a kind alternative to the punishment he was about to get. Link felt his heart begin to race against as he felt the tip of the blade come to rest against his Adam’s apple. After a moment of contemplation his commander smiled and removed the blade from his neck. 

“You know, you caught me in a good mood. Since you seem so determined to earn your guard and tab, you will shoot these arrows until your form is perfect.” He said with a small smile. Link felt his fingers give a painful throb at his words but he refused to show any weakness. With a curt nod and a determined glare Link inclined his head and reached for an arrow. The commander and his laky smiled evilly and moved off to the side allowing Link to knock and pull back his arrow to take aim. Link’s arm throbbed and blood dripped off his fingertips but he refused to make a sound, refused to show any signs of discomfort as he let the arrow fly.

******

The memory slowly faded away and Wild felt himself come back to the clearing. His fingers ached with the memory of the past and he had to force himself not to suck in a deep breath when he remembered he was not alone. Slowly he let his eyes wander around the camp. The others were still chatting about archery and looking around it seemed that none of them noticed that he had mentally disappeared. Wild bowed his head slightly and thanked Hylia for that small mercy. He knew he couldn’t hide his condition forever but he didn’t want the others to know just yet. A part of him feared they would toss him away if they realized he was broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed. 

As casually as he could he brought his hands together and felt along the inner knuckles of his right hand. Thick calluses lined his middle and index fingers where the bow string would sit when he drew arrows back to fire. He wondered how long he had to shoot in order to earn his tab that day, if he ever earned his tab that day. A phantom ache throbbed through the joints of his fingers and he massaged the pain away absently. Wild was so engrossed in his thoughts he completely missed how the hero of Twilight watched him out of the corner of his eye.


End file.
